by J. Thorn
I could feel a plan blooming in Wyllow, and so I stepped back. Sometimes, being a leader meant knowing when to be led.
The cart had cleared the boulders and the horses came into direct view. Wyllow turned her back on us, flashing a quick grin over her shoulder before waving her arm at the elderly folks and calling for them to stop.
Kora and I trailed behind her as Wyllow’s sparkling, amber eyes and wide smile greeted the elderly couple.
“Howdy, travelers!”
The man held the reins and never took his eyes off the road, but the woman nodded at Wyllow.
“Entertain a trade?” Wyllow asked.
Kora huffed and took a step forward, but I stuck my arm out. I wanted to see what she was going to do. The woman touched the man’s arm and he brought the four horses to a full halt, his thousand-yard stare locked on the horizon.
“You want?”
“Water.” Wyllow looked back at us. “For all three of us.”
“Ain’t got that much to spare.”
“And two of your horses.”
The man turned and scoffed at Wyllow, but the old woman smiled and leaned back on the bench seat.
“Your offer?”
Wyllow thrust her hand out, the rusty keys in her palm. “These!”
“Bah!” The man snapped the reins and the horses started walking again.
“Wait, please. We’ll die out here.” Kora had stepped up next to Wyllow and spoken before I could. “This girl here, she’s a… she has abilities—and these keys can be used to unlock anything.”
“Black magic,” the man said.
I stared at his face and saw the milky, white film covering his eyes. He hadn’t been staring off at the horizon. He was blind.
The old woman climbed down from the cart, her watery, bloodshot eyes shadowed as her crooked fingers took the keys from Wyllow and she began to stroke them. She folded her palms over the rusty metal and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, her wrinkled face broke into a tight smile.
“Magic?” she asked Wyllow.
“Skeleton.”
The woman dropped the keys into the hot sand. “What do you mean?”
Wyllow bent down and picked them up, dropping them back into the old woman’s palm. “Skeleton keys. Crafted by a smith to open a variety of locks.”
For the first time since they’d pulled up, I saw the old man’s expression change. He almost seemed to be smiling.
“What about chests with ancient padlocks?” The woman turned and looked at their haul hidden beneath the canvas.
“Possibly.” Wyllow looked at me and shrugged.
I had a feeling she was making this up as she went along. And I Iiked it.
“But we can’t make any guarantees.” Kora took the keys from the old woman. “Two horses, some oats for them and us, and a few days’ worth of water. Then you get the keys. No tradebacks.”
“Do it.” The man’s voice came out more as a bark than words. “We’re not far from the prison.”
I winked at the old man. And maybe it was the sun playing tricks on my eyes, but I could have sworn he winked back. When I turned around to look at Kora and Wyllow, I saw the old woman had already begun to untie several bulky cannisters from the cart. She handed leather straps and cannisters to Kora before hitching up the cart to the stallions.
“For you and the horses. Don’t let ’em die.” She untied the two weaker horses, placing reins in Wyllow’s hands before snatching the keys from Kora’s.
“Ain’t worth the trade. But he’s taken a shine to ya.” She pointed her gnarled fingers at me. “I mean her. He sees her. He don’t see many people anymore.”
“Yah!” The old man yelled at his remaining horses while the woman took her seat next to him. She dangled the keys in the air as the cart pulled away, heading down the road and toward the prison. They disappeared into a dust cloud without another word.
“That. Was. Weird,” Wyllow said.
Kora snickered. “Yeah. And you would know weird.”
I turned away from the road and looked up into the deep, blue sky growing on the eastern horizon—where the eagle soared into the west.
25
We stood before what had been a church as the clouds streaked across the horizon in a vivid display of bittersweet tangerine. I secured the horses along the length of a warped post, making sure they had water and oats before turning my attention back to the small building.
In the dirt, I saw shards of stained glass. The timber-clad roof sloped down porous and worn atop a shredded paint façade that was speckled with gaping holes. The desert night would get cold, and this abandoned building would have to do.
I gingerly turned the rusted handle, taking a glance toward Wyllow and Kora before the doors creaked open. When I stepped inside the old church, a stillness clung to the walls and dust covered the pews. I’d heard stories about churches—buildings used only for worshipping gods. That must have been quite a luxury for the people of the old world, and not one we could have afforded in my Hydran village.
I started ripping dry-rotted boards from the walls before asking Wyllow to go outside and get a fire started so we wouldn’t freeze to death. When we were alone, I watched as Kora ran her fingers through the oats, pulling out the worms and tossing them into the dark corners.
A few minutes later, Wyllow came back inside. She brought a heavy silence that became gritty in my mouth like the desert sand. Normally, I didn’t mind silence. Maybe it was from all the hours I’d spent crawling alone in Lake Union, or maybe it was because my grandfather always spoke about “embracing” the great silence. I didn’t really know, but I had come to find comfort in stillness. Since losing my grandfather and Asher, I had learned to close my eyes and speak to them in different ways. Yet, the rift between these girls had to be addressed. We wouldn’t survive long if it wasn’t. I decided that I would need to be the catalyst, and so I began telling them my story—the first time I’d done so since leaving Seattle.
“I’m a Hydran.”
“A what?” Kora asked.
“A Hydran. My village sits in the Seattle ruins, beneath a settlement upon a hill known as the Nest. The Crows live there and Lord Corvus governs the region. They call us Hydrans because we live on the shore of Lake Union and we scour the bottom for aluminum.”
Wyllow frowned. “Lord Corvus? The way you said his name doesn’t sound like he’s respected.”
I scowled, my eyes darkening. The pain surged from my stomach and into my throat. I wasn’t proud of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to recount all the atrocities that had occurred. Instead, I told them only what they needed to know.
“Corvus and his soldiers murdered my people, burned our village to the ground, and he was responsible for the death of my best friend. Corvus is the reason I was captured by slavers and brought to the prison.”
Kora and Wyllow slid to the ground next to me, both putting an arm around me. But I shrugged them off and leapt to my feet, turning to face them. My eyes flared and that pain in my stomach turned to fire.
“I will return and hold Corvus accountable for his crimes. He will pay, and I will rebuild my village. I swear I will or I’ll die trying.”
They both nodded, but neither said a word.
“If you come with me, help me, I can offer you a new life, free of slavery and oppression. It won’t be much, but it’ll be a life worth living. Freedom.”
“Freedom?” they asked in unison.
“Yes. Death to the tyrants.”
Their eyes shone in the low light as they gazed up at me, their faces twisting.
“If you want to wage a war,” Kora said, tilting her head to the side, “you’re gonna need an army.”
26
We slept on the floor of the old church curled up next to one another. My muscles ached from the uneven oak timber—the cold, hard wood stiffening my bones—but it was the best sleep I’d had for some time because it was on my time. I was free again.
Dawn had barely b
roken when I began to stir. The crows cawing in the steeple seemed to call to me, reminding me of what lay ahead and what I needed to do. I didn’t have the luxury of sleeping off the day. I rolled to my side, and that was when I realized Kora wasn’t there.
“Wyllow, are you awake?”
She groaned, flinging an arm above her head while a sleepy grimace spread across her face.
“Am now.”
I scrambled for my boots, pulling them on as I spoke to her. “Get up, then. Kora’s not here.”
“So?”
I huffed and stared at her while tying my laces.
“Okay, just kidding.” She stretched for her boots that sat against the wall. “You know, she’s probably gone outside to pee. God knows I gotta go.”
I stomped past Wyllow and through the church doors, pushing them open with both hands. The morning tasted moist and cool. I sighed, knowing how brutal the air would become in just a few hours.
Looking around, I saw Kora perched upon a timber railing that held up a decaying, wooden fence which stretched around to the back of the churchyard. She sat facing the east, watching the sun rise from behind the mountains. Kora had hunks of dry-rotted wood in her hands, crumbling it into sawdust and sprinkling it on the ground.
I walked over and stood beside her, watching the sun color the sky in orange and golden streaks.
“Our cell faced north. We got robbed of both sunrise and sunset.”
“Kinda risky coming out here by yourself. We didn’t know where you went.”
“I’m not a prisoner anymore, Rayna. I don’t need to be accountable to anyone.”
“I was worried about you.” I nodded toward the sunrise and stared at the colors painting the sky. “You okay?”
Wyllow appeared next to me, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. “I told ya she was outside. It’s fine.”
Kora ignored Wyllow and turned to face me.
“Couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about what you said last night, about helping you. The situation in my village has been getting worse. We don’t have much to eat and it’s getting harder to grow anything. And even if the slave traders didn’t come through on a regular basis, we’d still be struggling. That doesn’t mean I think helping you fight Corvus is something my village could or should do, but…” She turned her head back to the sunrise.
I glanced at Wyllow, but she stood there smiling and listening to our conversation.
“I know how hard that life can be. You should know that, with Corvus out of the way, we could all coexist. There’s plenty of land to farm and space in my village.” I cringed as I said it, though, unsure just how much of my village remained. Corvus had ordered his men to set it on fire, and burning flesh was the last thing I’d smelled before running into the woods.
“I don’t know how much longer we can survive in our village, and you need an army. If I take you to my home, there may be a chance you could persuade my people to go with you and take down the Crows.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Kora said, smiling at me.
Wyllow let out a long growl. “Whoa. Hold up. My village and Kora’s, they’re not exactly friendly. There’s bad blood between the clans.”
Kora eyed Wyllow and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. When she spoke, she sounded wise beyond her years. “I don’t trust you, either, Wyllow. But you know what? I’m working on it. You should probably try doing the same. You’re the one who risked your life to bust Rayna out of the prison because you saw something in her, right?”
Wyllow squinted at Kora as the rising sun crested the mountains with a golden swath of bright light. She nodded before spinning around and heading back into the church.
“We should make tracks then,” Wyllow said without turning back. “Get the horses.”
27
The highway taunted us. I had never seen a stretch of road so long, so brutally endless. I imagined how long ago the surface must have been glossy black and easily traveled with powered carts. Now, its worn, dusty surface shimmered with hot air while the horizon promised no end to come. Logically, I knew this road would eventually take us to the great sea and my home near Lake Union, but that didn’t seem possible in the moment.
I could feel the horses’ energy waning. They too seemed focused on the horizon, yet the old mares walked along the baked asphalt with a desperation I felt in my gut.
I leaned forward into her neck, brushing a hand over the ungroomed mane of the horse I shared with Kora. The uneven horse hair felt rough against my skin, but I stroked her gently and whispered towards her ear.
“Hey, girl. Let’s stop for some water. I think you could use a rest.”
I tightened the reins and began to steer her toward the edge of the road where we could shelter under a crooked row of cacti and sage brush. It was then that I spotted a horse and cart about a quarter mile ahead.
I looked at Wyllow. “See that?”
“Yeah, good time to rest until they get where they’re headed or far enough out that we won’t catch them. Our horses ain’t winning any races.”
I agreed. The last thing I wanted was a confrontation with a stranger on the desolate highway—someone as unhinged and dangerous as us. We still had supplies enough from the merchants, which would last at least another day, but we didn’t have enough to share.
We dismounted and tied the horses up behind a thick tangle of prickly cacti and brown blades of long grass.
Kora pulled a spyglass from her bag, something that had been tucked into one of the merchant’s saddle bags which had also contained two blank, yellow-paged journals that Kora and Wyllow didn’t care about. I had stuffed those into my bag. Kora held up the spyglass and focused on the cart ahead of us on the highway.
“Looks like an old man on the high bench. Don’t see anyone else. We should ambush him, take what we need to get to my village.”
“Not right.” Wyllow shook her head as she mumbled to herself. “We can’t just ambush innocent people like thieves. We can make it without their stuff.”
Kora spat at the ground, shook her head, and turned to face me. “Rayna?”
I took the spyglass from Kora and looked through it, noticing that the man had stopped. He was now standing, and I could have sworn he was looking right at us although I was also almost positive that the sage brush had hidden our horses.
The next thing I noticed was the glint of a steel sword in one hand as he gripped his horse’s reins with the other. And from what I could see, he wasn’t alone. The man had passengers—at least two.
“He knows we’re following him.”
Damn dust. Kora was right. We’d hidden our animals, but he’d clearly been watching his back and seen our dust as we’d followed him down the long highway.
I looked again, seeing his wide-brimmed hat tipped forward and catching a glimpse at his passengers, who from this distance appeared to be children.
“He’s a family man. We’re not robbing him.”
Kora rolled her eyes as she sighed while Wyllow winked at me.
“Good call.”
We hung back with the horses and I gave them a little water before crouching behind the cacti and waiting for the man to continue on his way. I’d handed the spyglass back to Kora when a chill raced down my back—the feeling that you’re being watched. Before I could speak, a huge dog with a rope-chain collar and sharp teeth stepped out of the sage brush. It growled, its black fur raised and standing almost as tall as a pony.
“Shit!” Kora’s voice came behind me. “Not wild. The man sic’d his dog on us?”
“Don’t move.” Wyllow stood up straight. “Stand your ground and show him who’s the alpha.”
The horses began to whinny as the dog crept toward me.
Kora was right. This asshole saw us coming up on him, so he sent his dog for us.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said, my voice quivering. “It’s all good.”
But the moment I’d spoken, he’d responded with dee
p, raspy, barks and bared teeth. I froze, losing track of time as the adrenaline flooded my system. My mouth was dry, and I noticed that Kora and Wyllow had the same look as me on their faces. This thing would tear us apart.
“Zeus!”
The dog’s ears went up and it instantly backed away. The man who had been on the cart minutes earlier now emerged from the underbrush, coated in sweat and with two hands on his sword. He must have sprinted from the cart.
His whiskers were spiked grey and brittle, coming from coarsely wrinkled skin, and his watery eyes looked us over from beneath a faded wide-brimmed hat sitting atop his six-foot frame.
I met his hard stare with my jaw tight. My heart raced, and I contemplated going for the horses, but I knew we wouldn’t make it in time with that dog by his side. The old man broke his stare then, reaching out to briefly scratch Zeus behind the ears before smiling at me. The dog then walked over, no longer growling, and nuzzled his head against my shin. Without thinking, and to the gasps of Kora and Wyllow, I reached down and petted Zeus on the top of the head.
“He woulda taken your hand clean off by now. But Zeus got a sniffer for people. If he trusts ya, so do I.”
“He’s a nice dog,” I lied.
“We’re heading west.” Kora stepped in front of Wyllow. “Won’t bother you, sir.”
He looked at us and then at our horses, their heads hanging low in the growing inferno of the early-afternoon desert. Zeus obediently returned to the man’s side.
“I’ve got food and water back home. Those mares are about to drop dead.”
Wyllow shrugged and Kora looked at the ground. I spoke for all of us. “Nah, thanks. We have food and water.”
His hand dropped to his side, his knobby fingers twisting in the dog’s hair. “I don’t live far from here. You’ll need shelter from the night.”
I hesitated, having no idea if or when we’d get lucky again. The old church had given us a chance to rest, but we couldn’t count on coming across a space like that again.
